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My Blog and I

My name is Diana. I am the blogger behind Offbeat Vagabond. I just
wanted something to help me rant on about things I love or don't quite
love. I am big on books, especially Urban
Fantasy, it is my favorite genre. Any Romance has to be Paranormal,
because love isn't natural without a gun and a beast involved. Although my tastes are very much expanding, I have discovered a love for Contemporary even BDSM (shocking!) I love
movies. Sci-fi/Fantasy/Horror/Action, pretty much anything as long as no
Romantic Comedies are involved (Katherine Heigl, you have been warned).
Music, TV, Wrestling are all my things as well (although I haven't been watching Wrestling as much as I used to). I am doing this for fun. I want to
write on a professional front, so blogging is a good stepping stone for
me. I just hope that stone doesn't have moss and I slip and break
something. So join me in my little piece of the Internet and remember,
it is normal to be abnormal

Willow has her hands
full scraping out a life in a grungy neighborhood where drugs and crime
are the norm. Life is hard, but it's about to get harder. Being
transformed into a sexual pet for an alien warrior may be her only way
out.

But Stom, the man she's been awarded to as a battle honor,
has no use for a female, not when his heart is still in a million
pieces.

Though the need to be Stom's mate is overwhelming her,
mending his heart isn't going to be enough. His enemies are searching,
looking for the women who are more than they seem, but she's in their
hands before she discovers she's more-than-human.

The wind came from
where the sun bleached the horizon, fluttering the ashes higher off
the scorched ground, a bitter flock of blackness that clouded the sky
for miles. Stom sucked in a breath through his mask. Unlike the trail
of ten fighting men who swept out to his left and right, he’d
removed his helmet – the goggles and the mask with a breathing
filter was it. He needed the touch of the breeze on his face, no
matter how acrid.

On his retinal map,
there was a tiny green triangle at this spot. This had once been his
home.

Nasskia, little Bon,
and her older brother Septis would lie here, somewhere, buried
underneath the ash at his feet. Unless they’d been unlucky and the
Bak-lal had taken them, changed them; if so, they could be anywhere
on Grearth. Their nerves hard-wired. Their skin armored, their brains
pumped with instructions from the nearest factory queen. Their
personalities gone. Even the little ones like Bon. His throat
tightened, his eyes stung, and a small muscle beside his eye
twitched.

Elger’s voice
buzzed in his ear comm. “It’s clear, Stom. We haven’t seen a
Bak soldier for days.”

With their leader
dead three days ago, Stom was filling in. He grunted affirmation to
Elger. Other patrols had been ambushed; theirs had been relatively
lucky for three days running. “Rest. Keep your eyes up.”

He hunched down onto
his heels but kept his mech rifle in his hands. The last Baks on this
part of the continent had been a weedy, damaged force. Maybe they
could cleanse the whole planet. Never been done before, but gods,
they needed to.

There’d never been
a starfarer home planet invaded before. How the Bak-lal had achieved
this was a mystery. In one night, the Bak-lal had appeared in armies
of converted people and insect beast machines.

He felt his hand
move on the padding inside his glove. His skin was striped with
black, his color the mark of the Feya, a people born under trees.

When it had
happened, he’d been off planet. A few million had been evacuated.
Some higher up had held off using the Planet Breakers and instead
ordered Grearth razed by flame. The difference had seemed miniscule.
Turn the planet into dust, or burn it. He’d watched from holoscreen
as they’d detonated the bombs, the firestorms rendered in deep
reds, oranges and black. The superheated carpet of fire had crept
silently across the world, burning everything to nothing.

Yet the evidence
before his eyes had meant zero. He hadn’t believed, not until
they’d been dropped in to clean up remnants.

At least someone
would have a future here, maybe not for a hundred years, but the
world would recover. He stared bleakly outward, vision blurred.
Nasskia was gone. His bond mate. His heart. His soul. His one and
only Nasskia who could never be replaced, and his little ones. May
demons take the Bak-lal; his little ones were gone too.

*********************************************

About Cari Silverwood

Cari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of BDSM stories and dark erotic fiction.

She
writes the way the world should be - dangerous and sexy with bullets
piercing the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need
escape, when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here
you will find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the
tang of BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you
dare to read.

And...in this real world, she has a lovely family
in Australia, with the prerequisite teenager who dwells in the dark
bedroom catacombs...a husband who raises eyebrows when he catches
glimpses of what she writes, and a menagerie of other animals barking,
meowing, and swimming about the place.

Due to the daily spam comments I have been getting lately and to avoid the annoying word verification, Anonymous comments are no more. I do not want bargains on bags, watches, jerseys, boots and other crap. Geez, they could at least spam me with book and movie stuff, I would be somewhat interested LOL! Thank you :D